


Jacqueline Joins the Mile High Club!

by turntechbasshead



Category: Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt
Genre: F/F, Gen, sober airplane shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 23:50:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16005872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turntechbasshead/pseuds/turntechbasshead
Summary: Jacqueline's on one of the worst flights of her life. Can an unexpected passenger help change that? (Probably not.)





	Jacqueline Joins the Mile High Club!

**Author's Note:**

> I originally published on Jan. 11, 2017 on kendrickcamps. Reading it back today, I didn't feel it fit my current writing style, so this is a reworked and rewritten version. 
> 
> Enjoy! ???

Since her divorce, Jacqueline felt like her life had gone to shit. She was left with the small amount of her settlement she had yet to spend, no home to call her own, and her son. Granted, being able to raise her son part-time made her feel good considering she’d otherwise hired women do the mothering for her. Other than the feeling of being an actual mom, Jacqueline was unhappy. Her trophy wife status had been officially pulled out from under her, similar to when she’d pulled her Savonnerie rug from under Mimi Kanasis. The name she’d made for herself was gone, leaving her feeling almost completely empty. Through it all, Jacqueline decided she wanted to stop missing her past. She wanted to try to live as normal of a life as possible.

“Come on, Buckley,” Jacqueline attempted to coax her young son through the door and onto the airplane.

Jacqueline knew she needed a break. After the stress and emotions she’d been experiencing, including the hunt for an apartment to camp out in, she was tired. Tired of Manhattan, tired of New York, tired of what her life had become. She knew she deserved a trip away from the East Coast, even if it was for a week and with her son.

“Buckley. Come on.”  Instead of obeying like she hoped he would, Buckley remained completely engrossed in the game he played on his handheld gaming device, not moving an inch towards his mother. Jacqueline sighed and shook her head in disappointment. In her stewardess days, she’d dealt with plenty of kids who acted, or didn’t in his case, in the same manner Buckley did and she _refused_ to be another “that lady” with “that kid”.

“Move it, lady!” A deep voice coupled with a thick Brooklyn accent called from the line behind her, his tone sounding extremely aggressive.

“Buckley,” Jacqueline spoke sternly, snapping her fingers in front of her son’s face. Due to her lack of parenting experience, she had no idea whether she was being too stern or not stern enough. Either way, her attempt at being stern had no effect.

“Come on!” Instead of the angry Brooklynite, a nasally, Queens sounding woman almost shouted, not standing far behind Jacqueline in line.

“What’s that guy’s deal?” Buckley mumbled as he brought his gaming system closer to his face, angering his mom and everyone behind him.

“Okay, you know what?” Jacqueline immediately grabbed Buckley by the backpack strap and pulled him onto the plane and towards their seats, which were in the first row. “Keep pulling this crap, I’m throwing you and that thing out mid-flight.”

Buckley looked up from his game, his eyes wide. He wasn’t sure whether his mother was bluffing or if she would pick him up, open the door, and toss him out of the plane.

“You wouldn’t, mom.”

Jacqueline stared him down as he became visibly upset. In her mind, she beat herself up for not learning how to be a better parent. Buckley made her feel it was one of the few instances she wished she would’ve been her own Vera or Hunong in lieu of hiring actual Vera and Hunongs.

“Sit down or you’ll find out.”

“Fine.” Buckley plopped down in his seat, his eyes and attention returning to his game. “Why can’t you be cool like dad?” Despite mumbling under his breath, he couldn’t conceal the question.

Jacqueline scoffed and sat down next to her son, shaking her head in disbelief. She was as cool as Julian, if not cooler. Buckley was a kid, though. He didn’t know.

The plane was somewhat peaceful and quiet as people began boarding, which helped ease Jacqueline’s onset of anxiety. She had experienced, in her opinion, far too much panic in her days of working for Haute Falutin Airlines, most of which was triggered by various kinds of plane malfunctions. There was a reason she preferred blimp travel. Despite it playing a big part in her leaving her job, marrying Julian being the other part, Jacqueline refused to tell anyone about her flying fears. She refused to be anything but normal, or her definition of normal which was anything but.

“Where the hell are they?” Jacqueline mumbled to herself, rhythmically tapping her fingers on her armrest as she focused on the line of people filling the plane. Almost immediately after questioning, she heard a nearby, overly enthusiastic voice.

“Wow,” Titus began as he took his first steps onto the plane, “this is just like my TV movies.” He made his way into Jacqueline’s line of sight, clutching onto his homemade fanny pack and his thrifted, two-sizes-too-small Madonna sweatshirt. “Except it’s bigger. And Matt Damon isn’t here.”

Kimmy gasped as she followed behind Titus, her eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store.

“This is amazing!”

Kimmy had never been on a big plane before, mostly because there were no commercial airlines that flew in or out of Durnsville Municipal. The plane she traveled to New York on was a dinky little twin-engine plane, which was ant-sized in comparison to the Airbus she’d just boarded.

“Come sit down next to Mama Titus,” Titus called out to Kimmy, patting the cushioned seat next to him and dropping his carry-on items by his feet.

Jacqueline wasn’t sure what to think as she watched Kimmy move enthusiastically from the entrance to her seat. Initially, she was excited that Kimmy was tagging along. She thought they were going to be able to spend some quality, personal time together. The idea, though, slowly faded into a pipe dream as her plans turned from vacation into field trip. Part of her was glad Kimmy and Titus were able to tag along, seeing that between the three of them, none of them had been to the West Coast. The other part, though, wished Lillian wouldn’t have been on her mandatory drug, alcohol, and gambling rehab retreat. In the end, the whole of Jacqueline was grateful that she was being accompanied by distractions from everything that had been holding her down at home.

“I hate this,” Jacqueline sighed as she watched the remaining passengers board the plane. Some made their way down the aisle past and behind her and others disappeared behind the first-class curtains. The desire to move behind the navy-blue fabric that held so much power caused a dull ache to resonate in her chest. Jacqueline felt, way deep down, that she belonged with everyone who had disappeared into first class, but her wallet begged to differ.

“Welcome aboard United Airlines flight 665 to Los Angeles, y’all!” A flight attendant, donning an auburn-colored updo and perfectly tied neck scarf, spoke into a microphone not far from where Jacqueline was seated. “I’m Jessica, your head stewardess and in-flight entertainment!” She spoke cheerfully in a sweet Southern accent and giggled at the joke she’d made, comforting Jacqueline a bit. “We’ll be takin’ off here in about ten minutes, so if y’all could move your personal items under the seat in front of you and your carry-on baggage in the overhead compartments, we’d so appreciate it.”

Jacqueline brushed some strands of hair off her jeans, taking in the sound of the flight attendant. It wasn’t what she said or how she said it, rather her distinct dialect. It brought back the internal conflict she’d been fighting – whether she was destined to be a rich, high-class trophy wife, or a simple girl from an Indian reservation in the middle of South Dakota. Half of her wanted so badly to believe that she was destined to be the beautiful, stay-at-home wife and foot slut to a man who paid to have his ass wiped.

“Someone in first class just asked a great question,” Jessica the flight attendant came over the intercom once more, nowhere to be seen. “They asked where I was from. I was born and raised in North Carolina, home of NASCAR and the Tar Heels.”

Few people in business class paid attention to what Jessica had to say, many of them talking amongst each other and opening and closing their overhead bins.

Jacqueline imagined the kind of life her flight attendant may have had before becoming a flight attendant, presumably something along the lines of wearing plaid and cowgirl boots and living on a farm. As she painted the picture in her mind, she began second guessing what she thought she wanted.

“How much longer until we leave?” Buckley asked his mother, who was focusing on her thoughts more than her son. “I want to see how long I can follow the plane with the drone dad got me for my birthday.”

Under any other circumstance, Jacqueline would’ve glared at her son and question why he’d want to do something so foolish and illegal. Instead, she had zoned out while listening to Jessica the flight attendant review the standard safety procedures and the unlikely possibility of the plane going down and drowning in the middle of the United States. The more Jacqueline listened to her speak, the more she zoned out.

“Mom,” Buckley nudged Jacqueline in the arm with his elbow. He had become concerned when she hadn’t shot his drone flying idea down as she usually would’ve.

“What?” Jacqueline turned her head quickly, looking at Buckley with wide eyes.

“Once again, I wanna thank y’all for choosing United Airlines. Hope y’all enjoy your six-hour flight to Los Angeles, California and if you have any song requests, let me know!” Jessica’s voice cut through the silence between Jacqueline and her son.

Jacqueline sat back in her seat and sighed, gripping the ends of the armrests on either side of her. She craved a distraction from her mind, and what was occurring in her peripheral quickly became one. She turned her head towards the aisle, immediately taking in the sight of Kimmy and Titus taking turns playing with their window shade. As much as she tried to force furrowed brows to accommodate her mood, a slight grin crept across her lip balm-covered lips. She listened to Kimmy go on about how cool and fascinating the window shades were, Titus immediately replying with “It sure is, Kim Chi!”. They giggled like children as they continued to slide the shade up and down, acting like they were playing peekaboo with the world outside of the plane. She wanted to be annoyed by the two, who were clearly uncultured, middle-aged adults but she couldn’t help but feel warm.

Jacqueline continued watching her two companions look around in awe at what surrounded them in the cabin until she felt the jet engines fire from either side of the plane. She immediately went stiff, all the color draining from her face as she watched the seatbelt sign light up. Jacqueline’s anxiety, temporarily overshadowed by Titus and Kimmy, started to surface once more. She immediately began talking herself down in her mind.

_It’s okay. You’re going to be fine. The plane will be fine. The six-hour flight is going to be fine._

Jacqueline began tapping on the armrests once more, her pace much quicker than before. She may not have been verbalizing her thoughts and worries, but her facial expressions said it all.

_You’re going to survive the flight you paid $1200 for since no one else could afford their own damn tickets. You have a bottle of Xanax in Buckley’s backpack. You’re okay._

“Ms. White?”

Jacqueline gasped as she felt a soft, feminine hand come down on her forearm. She sighed, relieved as she saw Kimmy leaning across the aisle.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course!” Jacqueline immediately replied, feigning enthusiasm. She wasn’t going to break down, especially in front of the incredibly unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Kimmy began, lifting her hand from Jacqueline’s arm and motioning to her cheeks, “you’re as white as Gretchen was when she watched Lil’ Lisa walk out of the bunker.”

Jacqueline knew all the color was quickly disappearing from her face as her panic became overwhelming, but she patted her cheeks to give Kimmy, who was anything but dumb, the impression that she was unaware of her impending meltdown.

“Oh my, really? I had no idea.” Jacqueline rubbed the fleshiest part of her cheeks, attempting to jump start blood flow to draw some of her natural pinkish tints back. “That skin therapy where they hang you by your feet and rub mayonnaise on your face with industrial sponges must be working!”

Kimmy shot Jacqueline a knowing glare as she rested her hand on Jacqueline’s forearm once more. Physical symptoms of anxiety and panic were all too familiar to her and she didn’t want Jacqueline to feel obligated to conceal it.

“You’re shaking like one of those toys... what are they called?” Kimmy tapped her index finger on Jacqueline’s arm as she racked her brain. She could see it in her mind, but the name of one of her favorite toys as a child completely escaped her.

“A Shiatsu wand vibrator?” Jacqueline questioned only loud enough for Kimmy to hear, immediately eliciting a scrunched-up nose from Kimmy. The only toys she’d ever known were in the form of an iPad, hand-me-down dolls from older kids on the reservation, and sex toys. It wasn’t Jacqueline’s fault that the only vibrating toys she’d ever used were the ones sold at adult stores.

“No! Jeez!” Kimmy exclaimed in a hushed tone, shaking her head. “I think it was called... a bumble something? A Bumble Ball?”

“Oh,” Jacqueline replied, looking down at her shaking hands and trying to brush off the fact that she’d just mentioned one of various toys she owned and may have brought along with her. Before Kimmy had acknowledged it, she hadn’t noticed how much she was actually shaking; it was something she did a lot and tried her best not to focus too much on. “I’m okay, don’t worry.” Jacqueline tried her best to assure Kimmy that things weren’t as bad as they appeared, patting Kimmy’s forearm with her free hand.

Kimmy’s knowing glare returned. Instead of making any more attempts to get Jacqueline to talk to her about it, she retracted her hand and leaned back over into her seat. She looked over at Titus, who as fast asleep on his Madonna sweatshirt against the closed window shade, shaking her head and chuckling.

Jacqueline let out a sigh and peered over at Buckley, who was once again completely engrossed in his game. If Buckley was unfazed by the six-hour trip in a flying death trap, Jacqueline convinced herself she could try to be as well. She sighed once more, allowing her eyes to fall closed and focusing on her breathing until she fell asleep.

An hour and a half of the flight passed while Jacqueline slept.

Buckley continued to play his game, stopping only once to tell a different flight attendant that he wanted a Coke on the rocks and to charge his mother for it.

Kimmy sat in silent wonder, peering around at the various flight attendants and passengers around her. She mentally compared them to what she’d seen in Titus’s movies, concluding that her flight to Los Angeles was better.

Titus, much like before Jacqueline nodded off, was snuggled up against the window, cuddling up with his makeshift pillow.

Jacqueline’s dreams were anything but normal when she was on edge. They ranged from incredibly violent to incredibly sexual, which was only a step up from her usual dreams. Nonetheless, they were unusual and uncomfortable. Jacqueline’s in-flight dream was a mix of both, resulting in dream projecting, or what she described as “my body projecting my brain on LSD.”

Every muscle in Jacqueline’s body contracted, the muscles in her thighs visible through the skinny jeans she wore. She white-knuckled the armrests and began breathing shallowly, occasionally gasping for air. Her body twisted and writhed in her seat as she drowsily mumbled what sounded like gibberish or a Satanic chant. Any onlookers probably assumed she was either crazy, demon possessed, or having a seizure but only she and Kimmy knew that it was anything but unusual.

“Is she okay?” A flight attendant stopped next to Kimmy with the snack cart. She was stout and appeared to be in her early 50s. “She does not look okay.” The woman looked on with a look of concern as Jacqueline continued to move.

Kimmy stared at Jacqueline for a few moments before looking up at the flight attendant.

“She’s alright!” Kimmy began, moving her balled-up fist from underneath her chin. “She’s just dream projecting.”

“Oh...” The flight attendant looked back at Jacqueline, who was leaning towards a completely unbothered Buckley. “Well, if you’re able, can you get her to stop? She’s scaring a family a few rows behind her.” The woman pointed over her shoulder at a family of three, peering over and around seats with horrified looks on their faces as they watched Jacqueline.

“Sure!” Kimmy grinned and nodded.

“Thank you,” the woman grinned sheepishly, turning away from Kimmy and pushing her cart full of goodies into first class.

Kimmy sighed, wondering what it was like in first class; wondering what kind of people with what kind of money got to ride towards the front of the plane. Instead of becoming envious, she shrugged, completely content with the experience she was having on her first big flight.

Minutes passed as Kimmy returned her attention to Jacqueline, who was beginning to calm down on her own. Her body movements were much subtler than when the kind flight attendant informed Kimmy that she was frightening people. Her breathing had returned to normal, as had her muscle contractions and grip. She stopped summoning the devil but began repeatedly mumbling something along the lines of “dungeon” or “Deirdre”. Kimmy wanted to ask one she woke up but was afraid to know what exactly was going on.

“Attention passengers,” a deep voice came over the intercom, waking Jacqueline from her light sleep. “We’re about to hit some turbulence. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until we’ve passed through it.” Immediately, the cabin began trembling, eliciting gasps and groans out of many passengers.

“What?...” Jacqueline rubbed her eyes, sitting up from the slouched position she’d ended up in. She yawned as she surveyed her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was Kimmy, judging her from across the aisle. Jacqueline peered over at Kimmy who was, in fact, still looking at her. Instead of a pointed stare and furrowed brows, Kimmy looked at Jacqueline with her usual warm, caring eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Kimmy grinned at an incredibly disoriented Jacqueline she moved her fist from underneath her chin to her armrest. “Did you sleep okay?”

Jacqueline opened her mouth to speak, but immediately closed it and pursed her lips. Before she could speak, she caught a glimpse of the family in her peripheral. They continued to stare as if she was some zoo animal or a half-naked girl who danced in a glass box at the bar she frequented upon moving to New York. She went from dazed and confused to embarrassed and annoyed, causing her to tense up once more.

“Did I dream project?” Jacqueline grew more and more self-conscious as she noticed the family continued to gawk at her. She sat erect in her seat and straightened herself out, attempting to erase what’d just happened from any onlookers’ minds. She dream projected often but unlike what’d just happened, they all took place in the privacy of her own home. Only Kimmy and occasionally Vera had witnessed it, placing no judgment on her as it occurred. Jacqueline’s heart pounded loudly in her ears, scared to find out what the family would have to say once they landed.

“Well,” Kimmy paused, her expression softening more, “you were either saying ‘dungeon’ or ‘Deirdre’. I couldn’t tell.” She replied with a slow, hesitant nod, almost frowning.

“Oh, dear God,” Jacqueline whined, shaking her head. She turned away from Kimmy, facing forward in her seat and redirecting her attention on the blue curtain. The anxiety she’d slept off was quickly returning and Jacqueline wasn’t sure how much of it she could handle.

A minute passed, both Kimmy and Jacqueline sitting silent, before Kimmy decided to ask what she’d been wondering since Jacqueline demon mumbled.

“So, um...” Kimmy wasn’t sure how to phrase her question without angering Jacqueline. “What happened in your dream, Ms. White?” If she heard correctly, Kimmy couldn’t figure out the correlation between Deirdre Robespierre and dungeons.

“Don't worry about it,” Jacqueline immediately snapped back. She refused to explain to Kimmy, in front of God and everyone within earshot, that her mind had put her in a sex dungeon with someone she could barely stand.

As the turbulence settled, the pilot came over the intercom, informing everyone that they were free to move about the cabin once more. As soon as the seatbelt light was turned off, Jacqueline immediately unbuckled and stood up, her sights set on the lavatory in front of her. She was not going to spend the remainder of the flight being silently criticized by the Judgey McJudgersons and everyone else around her. Even if they weren’t saying anything, Jacqueline could feel the judgment and needed to escape it.

“Kimmy,” Jacqueline began as she approached the door, turning around to eye her son, who was flipping through a very graphic Japanese adult magazine he’d received from a middle-aged man from first-class while she was asleep, “keep an eye on... that.” She gestured lamely in Buckley’s direction, rolling her eyes as memories surfaced of Julian doing something similar when they first got married.

Kimmy looked up from the Family Circus comic she had received from the younger girl who sat behind her and smiled.

“Will do!” Kimmy responded, clicking her tongue at Buckley to have him respond with “Shut up, I’m looking at New Age lady parts.”

Jacqueline sighed as she swung the door open and entered the small airplane bathroom. She closed the door behind her. She checked a couple times to make sure it was, in fact, locked, before moving her focus to something else. After a few incidents working on Julian’s net jet flights, she was especially careful, making sure the door would remain closed during turbulence or someone who _actually_ needed to use the bathroom.

The lavatory on the airplane was a bit larger than usual, but small enough that one person could comfortably sit inside; it could fit up to two people, but the space would be consumed quickly.

As Jacqueline approached the mirror, which was large but faded, tears began rolling down her cheeks. Her embarrassment multiplied her anxiety, which had fully surfaced, exponentially. She began shaking like her Shiatsu wand vibrator once more, her breaths becoming shallow enough that she began to hyperventilate.

“What is wrong with you?” Jacqueline spoke to her reflection, frustration and shame displayed in her voice. “You’re a grown ass woman. Get your shit together, Jackie!” She pounded her fists on the sink as more tears streamed down her face. Repressing her feelings and issues, though she would never admit them to anyone, had done her so good for so long. Before her divorce, she not once questioned her lifestyle or her decisions. Why did she suddenly snap?

As Jacqueline stood at the sink, thinking about how much she truly didn’t understand, a loud knock came from the other side of the door. Jacqueline snapped up from the leaning position she’d gotten herself into, redirecting her attention to the door.

“Um, j-just a minute!” Jacqueline called out as grabbed for a square of toilet paper, using it to wipe the makeup tears from under her eyes. Considering what’d happened earlier, she wanted to come off as calm and put together as possible.

As Jacqueline rubbed the mascara that had come down in a tear stain on the apple of her cheek, another knock came from the other side of the door. Annoyed, she quickly discarded the toilet paper into the toilet and flushed with her foot. When she was working as a stewardess, she quickly learned that you were more likely to get herpes from an airplane bathroom than an actual human being.

“Must you be so impatient? There’s two other bathrooms on this airplane.” Jacqueline berated the rude and impatient passenger as she opened the lavatory door. “What if I --” Before she could propose the possibility of her having explosive diarrhea, she was pushed back into the lavatory by a hooded individual with a pair of unusually familiar hands. They leaned their head downwards, hiding their face from Jacqueline’s view as they pushed her across the lavatory.

“Excuse me!” Jacqueline exclaimed as she bumped into the toilet, nearly losing her balance. Angry, she crossed her arms across her chest as the flimsy door was slammed shut. She shook her head as the person fiddled with the lock. The urge to scream at the inconsiderate and incredibly invasive passenger for forcing her back into the germ-infested potty closet surfaced but Jacqueline was rendered speechless. The muscles in her arms tightened as she watched whoever was under the hood continue to struggle with the lock.

“Are you drunk or just really stupid?” Jacqueline finally managed to ask, moving towards the door and reaching out for the lock.

“Wow,” a female voice began, successfully locking the door and grabbing Jacqueline’s hand, “there’s no need to be rude, Jacqueline. We both know my IQ is higher than the sum of your age and weight.” She turned around and flashed a sly grin at Jacqueline.


End file.
